


Hogwarts, A History (Abridged)

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-02
Updated: 2007-06-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Welcome to the world of Arabella Figg, where (almost) anything is acceptable - the wilder, the better - and Sirius Black is an intriguing mystery. [Written in AU]





	Hogwarts, A History (Abridged)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Hogwarts, A History (Abridged)

Chapter One: Of Drinking and Meeting

I have always admired children. To be perfectly honest, they fascinate me, with their innocent questions and naïve interpretations of life. Children do not know the order or meaning of things; all that exists to them is bubble gum, tag, and sweet bedtime stories. These are the things that matter to children, as if life could be so simple.

Children do not care about worldly problems, unless it affects their game of tag. They don’t understand that anyone can be unhappy, for no reason at all, or for any reason other than the fact that their ice cream hit the floor.

I used to tell people I was never a child. I believe this to be a fairly accurate assumption, considering the fact that I have never been carefree or naïve. Not that I remember, in any sense. I have never asked a question with innocent intent. I have always thought that life was cruel and heartless, unfair and just waiting to bring me down. I hate bubble gum; it’s downright obnoxious. Tag is a silly and pointless game, and bedtime stories are merely inane.

I did know one thing, though, right from the moment I was born – or, at least, from the moment I can remember. I have always had something special about me; something that other children did not have. I never seemed to get hurt when I fell from trees, and once, when I was really angry, my favorite bear exploded. My parents informed me right before my eleventh birthday that I was a witch and what I was experiencing was called magic. I thought they were joking.

And then the letter came.

Hogwarts – what an odd name, I recall thinking. Two vile, disgusting things that I in no way wanted to be associated with: hogs or warts. My mother berated me for this thought, explaining with harsh words that it was only a title and not an indication of what went on at the school. There they would teach me magic, hone my gift, and turn me into a “respectable witch.”

I realized, as I waited for the impending date of my enrollment to arrive, that I had never questioned why things in our household were so different. Things seemed to move on their own. Dinner was always hot, no matter how late I was getting downstairs. Christmas was always magical, despite how many bruises I had acquired the day before. Father was always civil – if not nice – to me on that day.

And so I left for Hogwarts on September 1, aware of my heritage and finally understanding my life thus far. I thought I would hate it at that school, but I turned out to love it. It was better than home; in fact, it _was_ home.

I don’t know what happened while I was away, but when I returned to my family, they were different. They had physically abused me before for acting up, but never to the extent that they instated upon my return. I dreamed of returning to the school I had once feared. I have dreamed of returning every summer since, every moment I am not walking its corridors or staring at its architecture. I dread the moment that I will leave, for it will mean the end of something incredible and the start of a new beginning, one that I am not so sure I want to see.

In the end, at least, it will mean being rid of my increasingly angry parents. It will mean no more pain being my morning alarm, no more hateful words being my goodnight kiss. It will be the last time I hear them utter the words, “You are not a Figg, Arabella. Why must you burden us? Be gone.”

Someday, I will.

\---

I can hardly remember anything of importance in my first few years of Hogwarts. Those years meant nothing to me, save for the fact that I met a few amazing people and learned some very interesting information. I did not grow or change in a remarkable way; I did not become the woman my parents always dreamed I would be, but something else – in many ways, something better. In other ways, something worse.

I will return to the subject of my own growth in a moment. But first, to understand my circumstances, one must understand that I had the good fortune of being in the graces of a few incredible souls that found it fit to befriend me. Basically, that’s a lot of fancy talk for ‘I made good friends.’ It wasn’t until I turned sixteen, though, that I truly began to appreciate them.

My first friend was Lily Evans, a spunky little firecracker in her own right. We met the moment we stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express, and have been friends ever since. We balance each other, in a sense; she is the natural do-gooder, the perfect child and well-mannered student. I, meanwhile, am the rambunctious ne’er-do-well with almost as many detentions under my belt as the famous Marauders, who I will describe in detail later. Lily managed to calm me, somewhat, while I was able to occasionally break her shell. She was the brain, I was the heart.

While I devoted most moments of my day and life to Miss Evans, I did have an acceptable boyfriend and a few acquaintances in various places. My circle of friends ranged from those I rarely spoke to and those who were my partners in crime (though none so close as my dear ‘sister’ Lily). Very few will hold any interest to you, and so I will not mention their names.

My boyfriend, who seemed like everything and yet turned to nothing within the span of a few months (more on that later), was named Braden Finnegan. Our relationship was an odd one at best, really nothing more than an arm to clutch and a cheek to kiss. He did not compliment my soul, and I did nothing to better his. But we were happy, for a time.

I believe I promised to mention the Marauders, whom you may or may not know anything about. The group consisted of four young boys, befriended either at birth or at first meeting, who enjoyed an array of activities that seemed to highlight their love of pranking. They played an important role in my development as a person, as they did in Lily’s, though she would never admit such an idea. The Marauders were famous in Hogwarts, and though it seemed as though one should hate them… it was all you could do not to stare in wonder and wish that maybe, just maybe they would find you worthy of their attention.

Thus began my sixth year of attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

\---

“Bella. _Bella_. **Bella**!” I felt somebody flick my ear with annoyance.

“Whoa, what?” I choked, startled. I looked from the corner of my eyes to see Lily giving me her infamous glare. Her emerald eyes sparkled, as they always did, and I nearly sighed in jealousy.

“It’s time to go. The feast’s over,” she said with a roll of her eyes. I grinned and jumped up, dragging my best friend with me.

“Good, then we can get to the party!” I giggled. Lily pinched my arm, but immediately hooked hers around mine. I tugged gently on a strand of her bright red hair in return.

“You always want to party, don’t you, Arabella?” Lily sighed. I grimaced. I didn’t hate my name, but Lily only used it when she was either angry with me or about to go on a tangent about being responsible.

“It’s not good to party all the time, at our young and impressionable age. You could become an alcoholic, dear, or somebody could slip something in your drink and—”

Oh, God. Tangent indeed. I let Lily continue her rant, hardly listening but nodding at all the right moments (I had heard this speech a thousand times before), until we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, which marked the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

“Bubble butts,” I said, interrupting Lily. She began laughing loudly at both my words and the look on the Fat Lady’s painted face, before choking out the correct password – ‘Snickle Snitch’ – and pushing me into the room.

“Oh, as if that’s any better!” I claimed, putting my hands on my hips. Lily slid her arm around my waist and led me towards the girl’s dorm stairs, grinning. I had missed her, her and that beautiful smile she had. That natural essence of purity I envied.

“Come on, dahhhling,” Lily teased, “we must go put on our faces before the party begins!”

I slung an arm around her shoulders and grinned. “So that means you’ll be drinking with me?”

Lily merely threw me a dirty, but lovable, look in response and pushed me into our dorm room. The room we would be staying in for the next ten months, until we moved on the next year. I sighed and found my bed with the trunk at the foot – right by the window, as I always loved.

“I do so hate having to redo all the personal touches we’ve come up with,” I grumbled, gazing fondly out the window. It had a perfect view of the lake and the old oak tree beside it. I leaned my cheek against the window, its glass cool with the September air. It was good to be home.

“Yes, but every year we come up with something better. And you know you love ruining a new four-poster,” Lily grinned, referring to my tendency to scribble random thoughts and notes along the dark wood of our beds. I winked at her.

“You know it. But now, my lady, we dance!” I grasped her hands in mine and spun us around. Lily laughed delightedly before freeing herself from my arms and collapsing on her bed. I perched myself on the end, crossing my legs in a very posh way before tilting my head to the side and smiling prettily at her.

“Begin, Miss Evans.”

Lily stood gracefully and threw open her wardrobe door, examining the clothes that had been hung by the house elves. She pulled down a simple black dress, holding in front of herself and raising an eyebrow in silent question. I nodded in approval and she dressed rapidly, spinning around once in the final evening attire. I clapped dutifully.

“Lovely, as always,” I nodded. “And now it is my turn!”

I liked to amuse conservative Lily, and tonight – after nearly two months of missing her – would be no different. I stood and pulled off my shirt, twirling it above my head in a sexy dance before throwing at her. She giggled and leaned back against her headboard. I finished undressing and stood before my open wardrobe in naught but my underwear. I had never been the shy one, that was for sure.

“Pick a color,” I said, watching my friend from the corner of my eye. Lily sat thoughtful before smiling delicately.

“Purple. Royal purple, because you are my queen.” I glowed inside; I loved Lily for many reasons, her subtle compliments being only one of them.

“Purple it is,” I said in a stately manner, grabbing my dress and pulling it on over my head. The smooth material slid easily onto my curves and I admired myself in the mirror. I pulled my hair over my left shoulder and frowned and the dark circle I saw on my right. A bruise – meaningless to all but Lily and myself.

“Lily,” I whispered. “Is it so very noticeable?”

My emerald-eyed beauty saw the look on my face and took me into her arms, hugging me with her thin little frame. She snuggled her face onto my shoulder and sighed deeply. What burden I carried she willingly shared, though I wished she would not be so willing to endure the pain she didn’t deserve to see.

“No, Bella. Nobody will notice. And if they do, say Braden gave you a hickey,” she giggled against my skin. I wrapped my arms around her, noticing the contrast in our skin; mine was not exactly tan, but she was so fair-skinned that it looked so against her bare arms. I breathed in the scent of her lilac perfume and relaxed.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go!” I said cheerfully, bumping Lily with my hip. She grinned and led me to the top of the stairs, turning to stretch out her arm. I slid my hand in hers and let her pull me forward. We gave each other glimmering smiles with faint promises in our eyes, and then slowly descended the stairs.

\---

The music was loud, the words nearly indecipherable amongst the blare of the instruments. I didn’t mind so much as I felt uncomfortable. I liked the music, but it made me think about how sad it was that one person’s voice could be drowned out so easily by the noise around it. It made me wonder if my voice was being ignored because of the sound around me.

Then again, I was drunk.

I took a sip of my firewhisky and stumbled into Lily, who was chatting with some attractive boy I did not recognize. She gave me a look and caught my arm; what a good friend, I thought through my drunken stupor.

“Lileee, I love you so much,” I slurred, throwing my arms around her neck. “You’re so pretteeee.”

I turned to glare at the boy who had been talking with my friend. He was giving me an odd look, but I was too dizzy to decipher it.

“Don’… hurt her, mmkay?” I said, tilting dangerously to one side, then turning back to Lily. “I’m going ousside. Iss smoky in here.”

I giggled obnoxiously, vaguely aware of my actions, and stumbled towards the common room entrance. I think Lily tried to stop me; her companion, though, stopped her from reaching me, and she was distracted long enough for me to find my way into the corridor. I glanced around as the portrait swung shut behind me. I believe it was just after midnight; far past curfew, and I would already be in huge trouble if a professor saw me drunk. But, as alcohol has a funny way of doing, my mind was clouded and I ignored this judgment.

I tumbled out of the entrance to Hogwarts castle headfirst. I felt a sting of pain on my face, but the alcohol numbed it before I could think any more of the feeling. Giggling fiercely, I made my way to the Quidditch pitch. There I staggered and fell to the ground again; this time, though, I remained on the ground, rolling onto my back to gaze at the stars, sighing contentedly.

Minutes later – I think I dozed for a moment – I opened my eyes to see a tall, dark figure standing over me. I blinked slowly.

“Hullo,” I slurred. “You’re not going to rape me, are you?”

The figure laughed and dropped down to sit next to me. I struggled to sit up; he – for I could see now that it was a man – supported my arm while I settled myself. Once I was in a comfortable position, I sat motionless, smiling stupidly at this boy I vaguely recognized but could not recall.

“Your name is Arabella, right?” he asked. His voice seemed loud to my pounding head. I frowned.

“Stop yelling,” I demanded. The boy smiled, amused, but chose to humor me nonetheless.

“Sorry. Is your name Arabella?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said, nodding heavily. “But my friends call me Bella. Are you a friend of mine?”

He tilted his head to one side, looking similar to a confused puppy. “Well, we’ve never spoken before this, so I don’t suppose we are.”

I pouted. “You’re mean.”

 He laughed loudly and I glared.

“I’m sorry,” he said sweetly. “Would you like to be friends?”

I looked at him suspiciously, studying his jet-black hair and steel gray eyes. His face was angled sharply; he had a strong jaw and pronounced cheekbones. Quite frankly, he was gorgeous. At that thought, a name fought its way to my mouth through the drunken stupor.

“Sirius Black.”

“Yes?”

“You’re Sirius Black.”

“Correct. And you’re Arabella Figg.” I could sense his amusement at my current state. _Well_ , I thought haughtily, _I suppose_ he’s _never been drunk off his arse, hmm?_

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Black, that it is expressly forbidden to be out of your dormitory past eleven at night,” I slurred. Sirius grinned widely.

“Oh, is it now? And what, pray tell, are you doing?” he chuckled. I put my hands on my hips.

“Making sure you aren’t getting into trouble!”

Sirius laughed loudly again, dazing me. Despite myself, I grinned, finding his amusement infectious. He stood and reached out to help me up. I gladly slipped my hand into his, welcoming the support. He pulled me up surprisingly easily – then again, I shouldn’t have been so amazed; he was toned from Quidditch – and I stumbled into him, nearly knocking us both back down to the ground. He caught me, though, and steadied us, giving me a funny look.

“I think it’s time to get you back to the common room,” Sirius said.

“Obviously,” I giggled, looking dizzily up at him. He shook his head, smiling slightly, and began to walk with me back up to the castle. He kept one hand on the small of my back, ready to catch me if I tripped again. We made our way slowly but surely back.

Once we had finally stepped into the entrance and Sirius had quietly slipped the door shut behind us, I believe a demon must have possessed me and taken control of my motor skills. At least, that is the only plausible explanation I can think of for what I did next.

“I’m drunk!” I shouted mid-giggle, my words echoing off the stone walls and reverberating who knows how far. Sirius shot forward and clasped his hand over my mouth. He fell still as my shout faded, silent, listening carefully. I kissed his hand clumsily and giggled loudly again at the bemused look he gave me.

“Who’s there?” came an adult’s voice from somewhere down the hall. Sirius grabbed my arm and began tugging me towards the stairs that would bring us up towards the Gryffindor common room. I, however, found it necessary to pull back, enjoying what I thought to be a drunken game. Sirius sighed exasperatedly and turned back to scoop me into his arms. He began to race up the stairs, his footing sure despite the fact that he was skipping countless stairs at a time. I laughed loudly all the while, ending in a hiccup when he slid to a stop in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Snickle Snitch,” Sirius panted. The portrait swung open and he stepped inside, barely making it through before the Fat Lady shut again. Quite an angry picture when woken up.

“Bella!” Lily gasped, just as her eyes landed on Sirius; she stormed over and pulled me from his arms, nearly falling over as she caught my full weight. “What did you do to her?”

Sirius glared. “I did nothing, Evans. In fact, I was the one who dragged her back here from the Quidditch pitch and carried her up here to the common room, all the while running from a professor.”

Lily blushed furiously. “I’m…I didn’t mean…”

“Save it, Evans,” Sirius said, waving a hand through the air. “I was out there anyway.”

Lily smiled in thanks and began to walk away, dragging me along behind her. I shook myself free, though, and threw my arms around Sirius’ neck. Thinking back on it, I must have looked rather ridiculous.

“Thank you, Siriuuuus,” I crooned. “You’re my hero.”

Sirius laughed and untangled my arms from his neck, pushing me back towards the stairs that would lead me to my dorm – and the nice, soft bed inside it.

“You’re welcome, Arabella. Go with Lily,” he smiled. I obeyed him and followed my flaming friend to our room. She rounded on me with fury in her eyes. Right – when I said flaming, I wasn’t referring to just her hair.

“Arabella Figg! What were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, or expelled, or—”

“Sorry, Lils,” I pouted, using my best ‘sorry’ face. She glared at me for a long moment before sighing.

“Fine. I’ll be mad at you once you’re sober. For now, just go to bed.”

I grinned and hugged Lily quickly, then fell onto my four-poster. “I love you, Lily.”

“You’re going to have a killer hangover in the morning,” was her only response. I knew I would, too, and yet I fell into a deep, content sleep all the same.

*****

Author’s Note: Eep! *hides* I hope you all enjoyed the very first chapter of my new fic: Hogwarts, A History (Abridged). The title is meant as a reference to the sometimes joking nature of Arabella Figg, who is narrating the story from a sixth year student’s perspective. This fic is AU, I should mention; I began writing it some time ago, before we knew Arabella was a Squibb. I’m going to continue it from the idea that she was a witch because I don’t enjoy dealing with made-up characters.

Comments are appreciated, constructive criticism is loved. I base my writing off of your feedback, so please be sure to review. Ask me anything and I will answer it. Take care =] 


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